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Medicated


by Roxana Valentino
Illustrations by Carson Blumen-Green

 

To some extent,
I feel like a ghost of a past self.

The echoing off the walls
of my head
emphasize a new-found loss
of calamity.
Awaken and quiet
the cacophony.

Forcing myself into a haze,
swallowing a metallic taste.

Slightly because I’ve lost myself inside the daze
Enveloped in the fog,
dragging.
I linger around as time blows away with days.

Where can I go?

To breathe.
And be.
And de-

compose myself.

 

I float above old self.
      

               A bent spine.

 

I never failed to claim it as mine.

 

I see it from below.

 

oh (wo)man,
hello.